The Last Thing He Said
by Neume Indil
Summary: A different take on the orphans of the War of the Ring meeting the King of Gondor, inspired by the faith of another four legged friend. Chapters just seem to come to me at random times, so check back periodically.
1. Faith

The last words he'd said to her were, "Stay here and mind your manners." So, that's what she did. She stayed in the corner where the sun came in, quiet and not underfoot. The nice old man brought her meals and she took walks in the courtyard and gardens, but she always returned to where he'd left her so she wouldn't miss him. It had been so long since she'd seen him and she wanted to be the first one to welcome him home. Sometimes she wondered if he'd forgotten about her, but she knew that would never happen. She was his princess; her daddy would never abandon her.

Across the barn a strange man looked at her. He was taller and darker than Daddy, but seemed just as kind. Next to him, a lighter man studied her too. She liked them both immediately. The darker one called her as the nice old man joined them and she left her blanket on the floor to say hello. After all, it was only polite since he'd been kind enough to speak to her.

"Well hello there little one. Who is your master?" the dark one asked.

"She was Captain Boromir's, my Lord," the old man said. "Been here since he left on his journey."

While they talked she thought about asking them if they'd seen her daddy, and looked up at each with sad brown eyes.

"She's stayed in that corner for over a year?" the dark one asked, patting her head.

"Aye," the old man said. "She just lays there watching the door. Goes outside, then comes right back and waits. I had to bring her food out here, otherwise she won't eat."

The light one offered his hand and she investigated it well before greeting him too.

"So much faith, little one," he said rubbing her back gently. "You are a true friend indeed."

She decided they probably didn't know where he was as they took their horses from the barn. She should just be a good girl and wait. Daddy will come back, she thought with a sigh as she lay down on her blanket to wait. Someday.


	2. Questions

The man on my back lost his horse. I lost my man. In a human mind, I suppose it made sense to give us to each other. In my mind, though, the injustice is an insult atop an injury. I should have been permitted to chose my next man as I had before- to use his smell and the way he stood, how he looked at me- to decide who was smart enough to take care of us both, who was too heavy or too hard with the mouth-iron or the boot-irons to be worth the work. I'd found one I liked- big, but not too big, gentle, smelled like hay- many seasons ago. We got on well, my man and I, but the last thing he'd said was "Go now, run!" and, like my mare'd taught me as a colt, I did as my human asked, even though the salty, metal-smelling blood frothed out of his mouth and his eyes fell closed. I wanted to take him with me, but he wouldn't let me, and bound as we are by Felarof's oath, I had to leave him there.

When I went back in the daylight once the fires were gone, I couldn't find him, or even his smell. He'd just… vanished. Someone else's man led me inside the stones, promising hay. I know that word, 'hay', and 'water', and 'bed' and many others, no matter how many times men have called me stupid in the sun runs since my man got lost. I've often thought that if I could speak as men do I would correct them, but they are men, and the one who understood without words is gone. What would be the point?

Wherever we are going smells foul and feels worse, and the new man knows it as well as I. He keeps going though, just like they all do, depending on us to keep their hides out of warg jaws and away from orcs. Say what you will about animal intelligence, I know that word, orcs, in their language and mine and I don't like it. None of us do, and when one of them says it, a shiver I'm quite sure none of them feel passes through the whole herd. Some of the men smell of fear and the bitter tang of it makes me toss my head to wave it away. The new man probably thinks it's a fly, not noticing that the only things stirring in this wasted place are ashes and the same dark things that my man tried to kill.

Did _they_ take my man, those dark things? I asked this new man as best I could, but we do not know each other yet. Perhaps you know. The other men respect you and do that funny head droop when you come among them. You feel different, too, like you understand us better than the rest. Are you like us? Do you hear the wind talk to the trees as a storm comes in? Do you taste which hills gave us the streams and what flowers grow on their shores? Do you get tired of the gossiping flies in the barnyard and wish the birds would come more often to talk of real things, of true things, of the gods and what they see from the blue above where we cannot go? Can you help us through this new evil place? Do you know, man who smells of the north wind, where my man has gone?


	3. Gossip

Chapter 3: Gossip.

Yes, yes. I met him in the street just yesterday. In a horrible rush at the time, seemed quite impatient to get back in the straw roofed building when he'd only just left it and started making that strange scented smoke some of them blow, staring off toward the mountains. Perhaps he was angry, though I'm sure I don't know for certain what he was so upset about. But, then again, what do we understand of the lesser creatures like men anyway? After all, all creatures may have been created equal, but _some_ were created more equal than others. You know I'm right.

But yes, as I was saying, I met the one they call the Ranger. He seems quite intelligent for one of the lower beasts and the horses like him well enough. Their loyalty to the men creatures aside, they are generally excellent judges of character; you really must give them credit for that. Oh there I go again, following another unimportant tangent. I do apologize; I can't seem to keep any sort of focus since my Elric ran away. He was such a good manservant. The meals were always timely, well mixed, you know, plenty of skimmed milk and vegetable peelings, just as I like it. It will take forever to train another one, I'm convinced of it, to say nothing of my heartbreak over the time lost on the first one. But, that's a difficulty for another time. Suffice it to say, I simply don't know what to do without him except find what I can for myself, which is precisely what led to this chance encounter with the Ranger.

I had gone marketing around the back of the straw roofed building where some doves insisted the offerings were highly palatable. Unfortunately I no sooner found the most beautiful patch of tuber pieces, only slightly buried and not overly fresh, than some screeching, red faced female human charged at me fluttering her clothing and stamping those ridiculous feet of theirs. How they manage to do so much without proper hooves still amazes me, but again I ramble. I really do apologize, my dear, and you are such a graceful listener. We really must get together like this more often, you and I, and I give you my word I will listen to anything you wish to discuss without so much as a grunt. Only I should finish my tale first, should I not? I assure you it isn't terribly curly. Ha ha ha. Oh, I'm sorry. I shall never attempt such a horrible pun again.

Well, yes, where was I? Ahh, the female human. I do believe it was in season or whatever it is that happens to the poor things, judging by the way it carried on so. Perhaps it had a nest near by? But, rather than upset the creature further I left the area, intending to take a jaunt through the barns to see if any of the horses might know where I could find peelings or even perhaps those crusts of dried bread Elric would often procure. I swear, for a human he was a genius when it came to cooking. I do hope I can find him again. As I made my way toward the stables though, I smelt first that unusual smoke of the Ranger's, then heard rapid footsteps and paused to see what the commotion was about. I thought perhaps the smoke had overcome someone and I would have to summon help, but he was quite intact though galloping along on those gangly legs like something gone mad. My next thought was a bee sting or a prod to the tender parts, but before I could assess the situation further he nearly collided with me side on, and this, my dear, was the unusual part. He was talking… to himself. He certainly didn't address me immediately and therefore must have been talking to himself, but as he descended the hill I heard him muttering. I swear it. I know the human languages, you know. My mother insisted we all take lessons when we were young and I believe this is perhaps the only time I've found it a useful skill, but I really must remember to thank her if I see her again.

At any rate, as he ran he muttered something about 'the bacons being lit', which of course gave me quite a pause, I won't lie, but then I caught the words 'Gondor' and 'Théoden', so I assumed then that something must have happened involving the boar human in the straw roofed building and that's why he was in such a hurry. Then the last thing he said, and this is truly what made me decide that he is an exceptional human, came as he took evasive maneuvers to avoid our collision. He darted to his left and just barely brushed my tail, though he caused no damage, not even a bristle out of place, and as he did he looked directly at me and said, "I beg your pardon" as plainly as the snout on my face. I do not jest; I wasn't even aware that humans speak our tongue, let alone know proper etiquette. Of course I replied that it was no trouble at all and went on my way with a chipper 'Cheerio'. It was the only polite thing to do considering the rush he was in, though I believe I would have liked to have a better chat. Perhaps another time though. Exceptional human this Ranger, truly, an exceptional human. I wonder if he cooks?


	4. Curiosity

I knew he'd seen me when those strange light eyes met mine. The night was, as they say, dark as Queen Beruthiel's cats, but he'd seen me anyway. Strange human. Stranger saying since everyone knows not all of my ancestors were black. Undeterred by the stranger's boldness and determinedly curious, I decided to follow him and see where he went. It was odd for a man to walk alone at night inside the city, especially since the stones started falling and smoke billowed over the great walls. They'd always rattled and thumped past in groups with enough noise that I was well out of the way when they passed. Yet here was one alone, covered, dark and passing through shadows as delicately as I would, seeming unaware of anything but the path beneath his paws… and me.

During the worst of the falling stones and smoke I'd huddled high on the walls near the Blood House where nothing stirred. It felt safe by comparison though it usually felt dire and smelled of sickness. Then the dying smell came, followed by groaning men in metal on carrying poles. I waited in a quiet garden behind the Blood House trying to ignore the screams from the building beside me, like the final cries of a mouse or bird between my claws, unpleasant but necessary. Finally I could stand it no more and went down through the city, skirting the houses where women usually threw shoes or water, just in case. Just as I settled myself in a doorway where I could see the lower gates, the strange man saw me; or rather we saw each other. He went in the direction of the Blood House and I slipped around one side of him, slinking through shadows to see without being seen again, and still I nearly lost him. He was very quiet for a two-legger. That also piqued my interest. He made no noise even with his paws covered. How did he do it?

The screams and moans and chatter sounds that meant a human was purring to another didn't stop when he went into the Blood House, but a strange smell and a stranger feeling gradually filled the air from a window over my head. Two banisters up: an easy climb. That was the first time I saw the yellow girl and the yellow man beside her. The light-eyed man was there too and I peered around the window edge just as the girl opened her eyes, blinking at the yellow man as if dazed. Why the two-leggers need to hit each other over the heads and knock down stones I still don't understand, but it seemed this little female had been badly injured. Her paw was tied to her chest and her face was very white, reminding me of the breast feathers of a dove. She looked soft. I decided then to return in the light to investigate her more, but for the time being my curiosity about the man wasn't sated. I had to know how this human saw through my best tricks. It simply didn't seem right, and creeping again I waited at the door of the Blood House until he left it, making a bit more noise now than he had before though I seemed to be the only one who noticed him. I froze, ears aimed forward, when he spoke.

"Come then watcher. Escort me down again."

He didn't look at me this time but I could tell his ears were perked toward me. How did he know? Mystified, I crept forward, making sure to grow out of the shadow as though a part of it, my best trick. A smile crossed his face and he started off, going back down the way we'd come. Invited, or perhaps just indulged, I followed him openly, letting him see where I hid and how I crept silently through broken stone and old straw, hoping that he would in turn show me how he was so stealthy at his great size. He only walked, murring to himself. Singing they call it, a soothing sound. Lower and lower he went, the wings of his garment flapping now and again as he turned a corner or skirted a pile of stone other men wouldn't have seen. I followed though I had never ventured so near the lower gates before, but the man went on and seemed intent to go through them and into the field, that broad, burned expanse of grass that now reeked of things I neither knew nor wished to know. Surely he didn't mean to go out there when there were plenty of men warm and awake within the walls? Any of my friends or siblings who ventured beyond those gates never came back. It was a place of death.

Before I understood what I did or how I came to do it, I called to him and left my safe still shadows for the temporary one caused by man and moon. I risked going near his paws for he did not seem the type to swat them at me, and I saw he had no claws. I sought his face, the dark whiskers, the light eyes, the crippled ears of all men that never move, and asked softly why.

"This is not yet my place."

But this is your place, I told him, and pressed against his leg. This is the place of men. Out there are dark things. But while he might sneak and glide like one of my kind, he seemed not to know the tongue and the last thing he said came in the sounds of men.

"Soon enough."


End file.
